


Uncharted

by flailingthroughsanity



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Character Study, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9306626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flailingthroughsanity/pseuds/flailingthroughsanity
Summary: Myungsoo chases sunsets and new beginnings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It was a slow day at work lol

It’s 2017.

It’s January.

It’s a new year, a new mark.

Myungsoo rests his foot against the seat across him, watching the trees rush by the train windows. There’s still a chill to the wind, a fragment of December, and he sees it in the web-like traces of fog on the panes. He shifts in his seat, setting his bag firmly on his lap.

He looks around, takes in the other passengers. There’s not a lot of them — an elderly woman carrying a bag of vegetables, a man from some company or other and his son, perhaps — he’s not really surprised, it was still quite early. He rests his head against the seat, letting his eyes close a bit, and if he thinks of Woohyun, then at least it’s in the silence of his head.

∞

“Hey, wake up.” Myungsoo frowns, suddenly pulled away from his light slumber.

Woohyun chuckles as Myungsoo whines, and he wraps his arm around the other tighter. “We’re almost there, you don’t wanna miss it, right?”

With that, Myungsoo shakes his head (even if he was still half-asleep), and sits up, feeling blood rush back into the cheek he had pressed against Woohyun’s shoulder in sleep. He knows it’s red but Woohyun simply rubs it, smiling that small handsome smile.

“What time is it?” he asks, blinking the sleep away. He jostles his bag, feels the camera through the material. Woohyun looks to his watch. “5:23, sleepyhead.”

Myungsoo nods, and he rests his head against Woohyun’s shoulder once more.

“You’re not falling back asleep, are you?” The man asks, amusement in his voice.

A slight shake of his head.

“Good, because we woke up at midnight for this.”

Woohyun pretends to grumble, but Myungsoo hears the fondness in his voice and he lets himself bask in Woohyun’s warmth.

A press of a kiss on the other man’s neck and he feels Woohyun hold him tighter.

∞

It’s beautiful.

A glowing, sunlit sky — rising, the birth of a new dawn. Fields of orange and yellow and red burst against the blue. It covers and envelopes, and continues to amaze him.

Woohyun turns his face and kisses him just as the sun leans over the horizon.

∞

Myungsoo gets off the train on the next stop.

His feet lands on the ground and, against his will, his heart thuds and twists as he waits to hear another pair of feet land next to him.

Instead, the elderly woman politely asks him to move and he hurries, head down, world heavy on his shoulders.

∞

“You know, I’m gonna end up with debt if we keep this up.” Woohyun jokes, and Myungsoo stills. He blinks and he looks back at Woohyun and he opens his mouth, an apology on his lips—

The other’s hand cups his mouth and Woohyun continues. “No, shut up. I was joking. You know I love it when you take me on these trips — even if I end up paying for it most of the time.”

Myungsoo is silent as Woohyun lowers his hand and then he launches himself at the other, arms tight. He doesn’t say thanks, finds the words too trite to describe the extent of how happy Woohyun has made him.

Woohyun chuckles and presses a kiss against his temple.

“When are we going, then?”

∞

They chase sunsets and sunrises.

They chase adventure and chance.

Myungsoo runs for the endless sky and Woohyun tags along, a bright smile on his lips at Myungsoo’s endless wanderlust.

Their trails were uncharted, and it was perfect.

∞

Myungsoo is a drop-out.

He’s twenty-two and a drop-out and a vagabond. It’s not to say that he it has never occurred to him — that he has wasted a chance so few are given, a chance at education, a chance at a financially stable life, a chance at what his parents call “success”. He knows he’s wasted a chance, he knows he has disappointed his parents, his family — but most of all, he knows he hasn’t disappointed himself.

It was something he realized, one day, as he walks through Seoul’s rain-pattered streets — on the day he met Woohyun, a bump in the rain, him crashing into the man, staining his immaculate grey suit as Woohyun drops the umbrella he was holding.

It had been thirty-eight days since he had last seen his parents, his family, leaving home with the clothes on his back, his camera in his bag and a fleeting stash of money in his pockets. He bumps into Woohyun on the thirty-ninth day, and the days return to zero.

He’s found his forever.

∞

Myungsoo walks through the village market, holding the strap of his bag close. There are stalls of fruits, chatter reaches his ears and even in the early morning, there’s a bustle of life in the mud-strewn trails, his old, ratty sneakers sinking with each step — he doesn’t mind, he doesn’t care.

Children laugh and skid past him, and his eyes trail after them and he smiles.

Ironically, it hurts — like his body had forgotten that it was a capable of such a thing. It’s been so long.

He pulls out his camera, fiddles with the settings and he takes a moment to stare at it, taking in every detail — every mark, every thin luminescent scratch on the display, the printed icons on the button faded from use.

∞

“So if I press this, what happens?” Woohyun asks, index finger on the _AE_ button.

“That locks the exposure in; so if you take a lot of photos, it remains the same.” He answers. He is greeted by a blank look on Woohyun’s face. “What the hell is exposure?”

“It’s how much light gets into the picture, the button puts it as it is so the amount of light doesn’t change no matter where you take the photo.” Myungsoo knows that he’s generalizing, oversimplifying and he’s even sure that he didn’t answer it right but Myungsoo does his best to simplify it, ignoring the many technical terms swimming around his head, stolen off the internet or from the books he gets away reading in bookstores.

Woohyun still looks confused, so Myungsoo just huffs. “I’ll show you.”

So he adjusts the exposure lock, and focuses on a subject. He shifts the camera in his hand so Woohyun can see the display screen. The other man stands near, their cheeks almost pressing against one another and Myungsoo feels his heart beat faster.

Woohyun whispers a low, deep “amazing”.

Myungsoo turns to him by accident, only to find Woohyun staring back at him.

Their noses graze.

Myungsoo has never realized how warm and golden-like Woohyun’s eyes were in the setting sun.

∞

Myungsoo is a wanderer, a drifter.

He moves through streets, past buildings, across cities.

He stops from time to time, taking one odd job after the other to support himself, but he does not settle.

His sneakers have walked on asphalt, earth and stone.

He’s worn the same denim jacket, once pristine — a gift from a mother, from a different lifetime, from a different world — now turned sun-kissed.

His skin has turned from porcelain to ochre.

He’s crossed paths with strangers, with animals, sometimes with his own solitary existence.

He wanders and wanders.

∞

Woohyun is like the sun.

He is bright, burns with the fierce flames of a thousand stars and his presence sets something in Myungsoo afire.

His smile is golden, like a piercing light from Apollo and Myungsoo can’t stop himself from looking at it directly.

His eyes burn at the intensity, but Myungsoo’s never been known to do what’s good for him.

∞

“So, you’re a photographer?” The man, Woohyun, asks.

Myungsoo nods, feeling a little uncomfortable sitting inside the posh café, a little wet from the drizzle. He doesn’t miss the way the other’s eyes roam over his state, over the noticeable tear in his jacket, on his shoes. “Not an official one…I just like to take photos, I guess.”

The answer is weak, but it’s the truth.

Myungsoo’s learned to be content with that.

Woohyun nods, raises the cup to his lips and sips. Myungsoo’s drained his already, savoring the bitter tang.

The other man sets his cup down, and a small smile rests on his lips.

The rain clears up and the afternoon sun cuts through the clouds. The café is flooded in a bath of golden light — Woohyun’s brown eyes are molten honey.

∞

Night has fallen, and Myungsoo seeks asylum at the local hostel. The prices are low, just enough for Myungsoo to stay a night and he carefully counts the bills, the crinkles and tears and like every time he’s handed the key to a temporary home, Myungsoo wonders if he’s made the right choice.

∞

“Jesus, you live where?”

“It’s not that bad,” Myungsoo answers, a little hotly, and Woohyun raises his hand in surrender, eyes apologetic. Myungsoo relaxes and slouches a bit. “I don’t have a wide variety of options — but it’s my choice, so I don’t need your pity.”

Woohyun is silent, and Myungsoo wonders where that silver tongue and that charming glint in his eyes had gone from the night before. Myungsoo wraps the blanket around him tighter, the scent of Woohyun curling around him like smoke.

The man moves, and he sits next to Myungsoo, his bare thigh seeping in warmth through the expensive-looking blanket. A hand rests on his back and Myungsoo can’t help but burrow himself, just a little, into sunlit warmth.

“It’s not pity. It’s concern.” Woohyun answers, and Myungsoo nods, lets himself rest his head against the other’s shoulder.

He recalls the ardent touches, the hot kisses and that blazing connection. Myungsoo thinks it’s more than that, but who was he to wonder?

He’s only known Woohyun for a week, but it already feels like he’s been standing in the sun since forever.

∞

He doesn’t sleep.

The room is clean, the elderly woman who was sitting a bench away from him during the ride turns out to be the owner, and she had smiled, handing him the key. She had brought up stew later, “On the house” she said, and she pinches his cheek before she turns away, waving Myungsoo’s repeated gratitude away with a time-worn hand.

He doesn’t sleep. He hasn’t slept in a while — the sleep that covered him in stars and dreams and honey-eyed kisses.

When he sleeps, all he sees is pitch-black darkness, an angry voice and farewell.

∞

There are cracks and fissures, and there are burns and scrapes.

Sometimes, the warmth of a nearby candle can drive the cold away.

Sometimes, the drip of candlelight can set everything ablaze.

∞

He doesn’t know where it started.

He doesn’t know how it started.

He doesn’t know if it was because of something he did, something he said or maybe it was just inevitable — after all, suns do set and flames die.

Maybe he had been blind, or had just failed to see it all along. That Woohyun was getting tired. Of him, of their relationship, of them — Myungsoo doesn’t know which it was, but he knows it’s all the same.

Woohyun wanted forever — a house, a family, picnics on the beach, down on one knee and a ring in the air, lines of age across their faces. He wanted photos printed on frames, hanging on their bedroom walls. Myungsoo wanted knee-high water, barefoot in a river, backpack and camera in one hand and the world before them.

Woohyun wanted a white picket fence, a dog named “Cookie” and a cat named “Butters” and Friday evening dinners with friends. Myungsoo wanted fields of shadows cast by mountain-like boulders, stars scattered across the night sky and the cries of cicadas.

Myungsoo also wanted forever — but it wasn’t the forever Woohyun wanted.

∞

Myungsoo learns.

He learns to love the sun, to love his bright-eyed wonder and his warm kisses. He learns to bask in his sturdy presence, in the faith that it will always be there — a persisting light at the end of the tunnel, a guiding shine in the darkness of the skies, his compass always pointing home.

He learns to love the flames, the fan of their heat, the lance of passion ignited in his veins.

He learns to love the way Woohyun’s touch burns him, burns him through and through and the way his eyes trap him in a torrent of passion-bright inferno.

∞

Myungsoo learns — love the sun a little too much, and you’ll get burned.

∞

Suns do set.

Flames flicker and die, embers return to ash.

The light at the end of the tunnel is an incoming train.

Infinity — and maybe forever — after all, is a human invention.

∞

Myungsoo continues to wander.

He wanders and wanders, town to town.

City to city.

Chasing one sunset after the other.

Always hoping.

Always praying.

Perhaps, this next sunset. He thinks.

Perhaps, it won’t set.

∞

He leaves the hostel just as the hour hand hits four.

He doesn’t leave anything in the room, he doesn’t need to. He knows he won’t come back.

He’ll just move to the next town, to the next chance of hope.

∞

Myungsoo walks through the seasons: through summer and spring, past fall and treks through the cold of winter.

He walks through it, over and over, in solitude, a homeless soul.

An endless cycle.

Ironic, he thinks.

Maybe this is what infinity is.

Maybe this is what forever is.

∞

Sometimes, he can still imagine Woohyun’s smile.

He can still hear Woohyun’s laughter.

Myungsoo turns his camera and takes in a beautiful scene, when the light hits just the right amount and it looks fortuitous like this.

 

All he hears is an almost silent-whispered “amazing” and the camera trembles.

∞

Time drags. It also seems to run.

There are days where Myungsoo wakes to the gaping hole in his chest and wonders when he’ll stop feeling this void.

There are days where Myungsoo wakes almost completely fine; and he sees something beautiful and his hands ache to claw at his own chest and rid himself of the weight of stone.

He walks up the hill, his bag trailing behind him, and chest heavy.

He’s walked for so long.

So, so long.

∞

He misses his mother. He misses her smile, the smell of her kimchi filling every crevice of his home. He misses the laughter of his brother, the warmth of his father’s arm around his shoulders.

It hurts — to not belong.

He realizes this as he sits, back against the trunk of a tree, the dark sky slowly turning purple.

It hurts — to wait for forever.

And he raises his hands, palms pressed against his cheek as the tears come and the first cry breaches the silent dawn.

It’s the first time he’s cried in years.

∞

His old watch, miraculously alive after all these years, tell him it’s 5:23 and he smiles, a little humored at the irony. The tears have long gone when the first slash of light cleaves the sky. The purple sky is brightening, the dark hues coalescing into blue, the shards of yellow bursting over the horizon.

He raises his camera, feels the familiar press of the eyelet as he rests it against his face.

His hands still.

His index finger freezes above the capture button.

Dawn continues, enveloping, covering — a dazzling flood of golden light bathes the horizon.

Warmth covers him as the sun rises, and he doesn’t notice himself lowering the camera.

He finally realizes one thing.

He’s finally seeing the sun. Not through the lens of his camera, or the reflection in Woohyun’s golden-eyed gaze.

His camera rests on his lap, but he doesn’t take notice.

The darkness runs, escapes and disappears — running amok in the face of blinding light. He hears every whispered word, feels every smile Woohyun has ever gifted him, each touch that brought him to the stars and back and Myungsoo lets the grief, the sorrow, the joy cover him in each painful thud of his heart.

∞

He has learned how to love the sun but he has always failed to understand it.

Now, he knows.

Suns do set, yet they rise again.

The trains do pass, but all tunnels end.

A phoenix rises from the ashes, a cycle of rebirth.

And even if one sun dies - there's still a billion more to take its place.

He learns one truth.

∞

He finally learns to let Woohyun go.


End file.
